


Not That Kind Of Papa

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Copia Is A Tired Rat Man, Cute, Early Mornings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, T For Some Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Popia must deal with relentless ghoul kits who will not let this poor man start his day in peace.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Not That Kind Of Papa

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr as a request!

Copia had always looked to the papacy as the day he would never feel overworked again. It would be a welcomed break once he was Papa. But, while he was no longer tasked with translating old tomes or doing Nihil’s paperwork all night, he was tasked with something a lot bigger. Or, as the case may be, smaller.

He set his mitre aside, having just given his early morning sermon. The skull paint was a lot to get used to– his predecessors never mentioned how sweat would affect it or make it run. Then again, they didn’t have anxiety. Not that he knew of, anyway. Regardless of this, he had given a damn good sermon if he did say so himself, if not a little uninspired from exhaustion, so he was ready to settle down with his morning coffee and enjoy the rest of his day. 

Bags under his eyes, he headed to the kitchens, where the cooking ghouls were already starting to serve up breakfast for the Siblings in the mess hall. Instead of risking all the fanfare, he slipped in through the back door of the kitchen, as he used to do as Cardinal when he wanted a midnight snack. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the Siblings of Sin mooning over him and vying for his affections– it did his ego wonders really, and it was a good way to find nightly bedfellows– it was just that today, all he needed was a little peace and solitude. Perhaps he would sit down in Primo Emeritus’ gardens for a while.

“Scusi,” he hissed, and waved his hand. Two of the kitchen ghouls turned, dropping their utensils in shock.

“Papa!” one said, and nudged the other.

“Your Dark Eminence, what are you doing back here?! We could have brought you a platter to your chambers!”

“Eh, fuck that,” Copia dismissed blatantly, “I have legs, I can walk.” He rubbed his gloves together. “Do you have any fresh coffee brewed?” He nearly moaned when a ghoulette he had grown close to named Vox, one who had been there for many decades, came out with a steaming cup for him in the coffee mug he that belonged to him: a black one that read ‘Evil Bitch.’ He accepted it gratefully, and hesitantly looked back up for more. Copia could see her smirk from the opening in her mask, and she retrieved something else. She came back a few moments later with a plate of blueberry waffles, icing sugar and syrup drenching them. Copia looked at it, biting his fist. “You do realize this is the closest I’ve ever come to an orgasm at 8 in the morning?”

“Get out of the kitchen, _Papa_ ,” Vox snorted, and he hurried off with his gorgeous breakfast and coffee. Ah, yes. Maybe today wouldn’t be so–

Copia nearly shrieked as he felt a swirl around his legs, and looked down to see six tiny ghoul kits running around. “What…?” he murmured, and one of them, in a black cloud, made something of a tornado around his legs. “Ahhh, shit shit shit,” he hissed, and his eyes widened as he lost his balance. The waffle went flying, right into the face of one of the sitting kits. It peeled the sticky mess off its face, and stuffed it in its mouth, looking like a tiny ghost covered in powdered sugar. 

Copia let out a squeak, and protected the coffee that he was able to salvage. “What are these kits doing here. eh?” he shouted to nobody, because of course nobody was minding them. He had to do everything around here. Wasn’t Aether usually the one looking after the little ghouls? He knew little to nothing about ghoul mating cycles and heat, but it looked like this was the time of year all the little ones were born to wreak havoc. Didn’t ghouls parent at all? 

He looked down to find one ghoul kit clinging to his leg. He tried to shake him off. “No.”

“ _Papa_?”

“Yes, but no.”

The kit said something in Ghoulish, and the rest of the kits went wild. Copia cringed, hoping the one on his leg wasn’t a fire ghoul. He let out a breath when he realized from his eyes that he was a baby Aether ghoul. Copia had a soft spot for Aether ghouls, as the Third had as well. Secondo hated ghouls, especially ghoul kits, only having been forced to work with them. Primo never really said much on the matter, but it was rumored he got on well with Shadow Ghouls, rare to find around the clergy now.

“I am going to go now, yes?” Copia told the little ones, and fast-walked toward the gardens. He turned to find them gone, and sighed. Maybe he should make more of an effort to be nice to the kits, now that he was head of the church. He most definitely did not want to be remembered as a cruel Papa. But he could organize activities for them and have playrooms built tomorrow– today, right now, he was going to sit and enjoy his damned coffee, since the pleasure of his waffles had been so woefully torn form him.

The new Papa entered the gardens, and breathed in the scent of the flowers. Some were enchanted to grow larger, and some were painstakingly taken care of manually. Copia took his favourite bench, yawned, and took a long sip of coffee, closing his eyes. The caffeine was beginning to wake him up.

A huge boom went off behind him, and he turned to see a rosebush on fire. He jumped up, and saw that more kits had materialized around him. The fire kit was stomping up and down by the bush, stoking the fire. The water kit was being chased around by the air kit, and the Aether kit was swinging upside down from a branch, making an ungodly noise that could shatter human eardrums.

“No!” he tried to tell them, “Put the fire out. Ghoul! Put it out!” He looked down. The Aether kit was back on his leg. “Shit. Why are you here? Why do you follow me so?” He looked to his left, where a second fire ghoul kit was busy trying to smash the window of Sister Imperator’s office, which overlooked the gardens. “Ahehehehe!” Copia let out nervous rat noises, darting over to stop him.

A small air ghoulette kit waddled over to him and sneezed, blowing his robes over his head. Copia yelped, covering himself as he went to hide behind the burning rosebush. He always went commando beneath his vestments for _reasons_ , and today was no exception. As ghoul kits screeched around him, he fumbled with his robes, trying to fit them back on before his dick caught on fire. Unfortunately during this fiasco, he didn’t notice another visitor had entered the gardens.

“Buongiorno, Papa. Nice bush,” Emeritus III smirked, clad in a purple bathrobe. “You know I like my men with a full one.” Copia groaned.

“Terzo, per l'amor di Satana, for once in your life do something useful and help me get these under control!” he begged. “I will do anything!”

“Anything…?”

Copia exhaled, remembered his place with a glare. “I am your Papa. You do as I say now.”

“Nobody is the Papa of me, as long as I live,” Terzo huffed. “You deal with the little demons yourself. I am technically retired and have better things to do. Things, being Sister Ira, waiting in my bed.” Copia watched with boiling irritation as the bastard plucked a single burning rose from the bush and admired it. “This is perfect for her, no?”

“Leave my sight, or I will have you excommunicated,” Popia growled.

“Ooh. Someone hasn’t finished their morning coffee yet,” Terzo teased, and sauntered away having helped with nothing at all.

“Cazzo, fuck, fucking hell,” Copia muttered, shaking errant flames from his vestments, and treading a path back to the bench. Imperator opened her window, and looked around. 

“Now what’s all this?! I expected you to shape up, not allow the church to become overrun with kits! Really, Papa. You must be a firm leader!” The window slammed shut again. 

Copia picked up his coffee, and looked around, numb to the carnage around him. A tornado was blowing through the peonies. The water kit was flooding the marigolds, and the lilies were currently being devoured by the fire kit, one by one. He was reminded for a moment of Dewdrop. Copia felt claws dig into his legs, and stared straight ahead in deadpan as four of the little ghouls and ghoulettes climbed all over him, chewing on his hair and smearing his skull paint. He took a sip of his coffee as one sat on his head. 

“Become Papa, they said,” he sighed, “It will be fun, they said.”


End file.
